I have always been an empty-headed person. I wake up with an empty head, and I go to sleep with one. When I pet the cat in the darkness of early morning, and grind the coffee beans by hand, my head begins to fill up. By the time I have showered and shaved, my head is two sixteenths less empty. My job filling small boxes with three hole-punched rulers that fit by snapping them into the steel rings of three-ring school-binders fills my head up more. By sundown it’s filled up to eleven sixteenths. After suppertime I can feel my beans and rice in my belly which pleases me. A little telly brings it straight to thirteen or fourteen sixteenths. The last two or three sixteenths of my head that is still empty by this time is for imagining traveling one day to Switzerland in particular because I have seen in pictures its beautiful peaceful lake and I feel frightened to go anywhere whose national borders are surrounded by any body of oceanic water. If I have a sixteenth leftover that is only the small amount I will ever need if for traveling one night I am able to get there.